


Language Barriers

by norcumi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cultural Differences, Explicit Consent, GFY, M/M, No pun intended, Not Beta Read, Porn Without Plot, Sith Culture, Soulmates, Torture, complications with not speaking the same language, consent is important dammit, ok maybe a little plot, safe sex all things considered, trope twisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi has always been shunned, because what Jedi would have a soulmark in the Sith language? He certainly never expected to find this mystery soulmate on a planet lost from the archives - of course, first he has to survive capture from an entire army of illegal clones, not a one who speaks a word of Basic.(Chapters 1-3 make a complete story without sex or A/B/O dynamics, rated Teen and up for torture and naughty words)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This could not have been accomplished without the kind assistance of Dogmatix, TheAceApples, Theotherguysride, and Flamethrower - thank you so much! 
> 
> Also many, many thanks to the supportive readers on tumblr, who kept the momentum going.

Rex wasn’t the only brother sneaking an extra patrol in, swinging by the detention cells to see the Jidai. It was nice that the longnecks were keeping just clones on guard, though it was strange that they didn’t seem to trust any of the trainers.

Well, none of the Masters were around yet, and they were the only ones to know Force tricks that they taught the clones to ignore, move past, or fight against. Perhaps it was a specialization thing.

The men actually on guard nodded to him, the one on the left snickering just enough for Rex to hear him. Rex returned that with the faint helmet roll that translated into an exasperated eyeroll and a headshake before ambling down the corridor. At least there’d be no more Jidai sneaking in, not with how many clones were traveling the halls tonight.

Admittedly, this one hadn’t been sneaking, either. The scuttlebutt had it that the idiot had come in, declared himself to traffic control, and landed on one of the designated platforms, all polite as could be. Yes, he’d then resisted capture, leading to the deaths of several squads, but it was still damn odd.

Yet another reason they were keeping the Jidai alive until one of the Masters arrived.

He felt almost giddy as he got to the only occupied cell. The longnecks were taking no chances, keeping the Jidai in a containment field inside the locked cell. Rex’s appearance earned him a look that somehow combined faintly curious, disdainful, and haughty all at the same time, then the field rotated enough to take him out of the Jidai’s view. The man said something, his tone dry and scathing, but like everything else he’d said it was neither Massassi nor Kaminoan.

Rex figured the longnecks knew what it was, but none of the clones had been taught anything but those two languages. They’d always been told it wasn’t in their purview, that they didn’t need to know, and as always something inside Rex itched to learn.

They’d been made for that: to learn. To learn, to fight, to protect the Masters, to serve Lord Sidious. Rex was one of the best CT class there was, and he’d heard rumors that he was being considered for CC. Cody would be happy with that. He’d been telling Rex for ages now that he was being wasted in the lower echelons. Rex wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but learning…. That was his favorite skill.

The Jidai kept rotating, spinning slowly until his back was to Rex. It was only then that the man’s palms were visible, and Rex’s breath caught. He’d heard the other reason the Jidai was to be kept alive: his soul-script was in Massassi.

He hadn’t heard what it read, though. He stared at the simple, stark words, pacing his way closer to the wall just to keep up with the containment field’s rotation. He stopped before he ran into the wall, but at the same time he couldn’t help but _stare_ at the Jidai as he rotated back around. Another look, more sardonic and suspicious this time, but Rex wasn’t paying attention to that.

Rex was the one who had taken the Jidai down. He hadn’t been the only brother out in the pounding rain – his squad hadn’t even been the first to show up. They’d heard, over their helmet coms, as the Jidai killed their brothers. Kept more at bay then they’d expected. Rex had already decided what approach he was going to take as he led the squad out of the bright, dry halls onto the landing platform. The Masters had said plenty of times that both Jidai and Tsis could feel intent, and the Force would reverberate with that sufficiently to allow a Force user to gauge the most useful outcomes. He hadn’t been bold enough to ask about various approaches, but it was pretty damn clear that the usual “be blank and in the moment” mentality that Master Tyranus favored was getting no one anywhere but dead.

So Rex had come out, blasters blazing, with one goal in mind. To help the twisty mentality he’d already switched his guns to stun, and to be honest he’d been just as surprised as everyone else that almost as soon as he’d started firing, the Jidai had twisted around, confusion clear on his face right before the stunbolts hit home.

He could swear there’d been just enough time for those pretty blue eyes to sear into him, but –

Soul-script was…strange. Some brothers had them, had ones that matched, enough that most brothers were willing to believe what a few of the trainers had whispered. It wasn’t confirmed by the Masters, but they didn’t like anyone asking, to the point of killing those who persisted.

Words of the heart, the union of mind and soul. When two – or more – first met, their thoughts would match what was etched on their match’s body. None of the trainers had any such thing visible, nor did the Masters, but it was common enough amongst the brothers. Hells, with their helmets on and turned to the right visual frequency, they could even find Kaminoan script on the longnecks. And for those lucky few that swore it was a match, they _did_ seem to be terrific partners. They were so often in greater synch, acting as one without discussion or prior planning.

The Jidai swung about again, and the soul-script was right there, glaring at Rex accusingly.

‘Protect him even if it kills him.’ It was a mental loophole, emotionally charged with positive connotations while ignoring the obvious outcome, where a mercy killing would be preferable to most fates. It had been Rex’s mantra as his bucket had compensated for the rain, as he’d aimed stun blasts at that strange human with the blue lightsaber.

His hand went to his left arm, where words he couldn’t read circled his biceps. They were the same shade of his favorite blue, matching that lightsaber, matching the Massassi on the Jidai’s hand.

Matching those accusatory, pretty eyes that glared at him, defiant in spite of the containment field.

By every ghost on Korriban, Rex was in so much trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

This was not how he expected to escape.

Well, to be fair, Obi-Wan hadn’t been too sure he’d be able to in the first place. It had been surreal enough to be attacked upon landing (never mind the oddities that had led to him being knocked out – he was not yet ready to examine that further). It had been nightmarish to be on display for over at least a day, to be gawked at by what he now suspected was rampant violations of galactic law and regulations. He didn’t even have words for the experience of his master’s Master appearing, Sith-eyed and radiating Darkness he hadn’t felt since Naboo.

That had been one of the less fun interrogations of his life, and he’d had some rather spectacular examples. The Force lightning had been new. Not fun, but new. Rather reminded him of Gala, but with more flair.

Dooku had left him to ‘consider his choices’ which seemed to be death with a side of joining Dooku on the Dark side, torture likely to be included either way.

No. Just no.

He’d been sitting and spinning for at least another half hour before the parade of spectators started again – at least, that was what he’d assumed. It’d been another of the helmeted men, that eerie stark white armor glimmering in the incessantly bright lighting. The armor was almost reassuring, because it meant he wasn’t subjected to those curious looks from identical faces. The man hesitated a moment, then Obi-Wan could see his shoulders straighten a hair. He marched forward, punching something into the control panel to the containment field.

Obi-Wan had expected torture, not for the field to collapse, and him right along with it. The – the clone caught him, murmuring words that were not soothing but at least didn’t seem to include barking orders.

The soldier activated the clamp between the damned Force-limiter binders, Obi-Wan’s wrists crossing uncomfortably behind him. Then he drew a blaster pistol and prodded Obi-Wan to his feet, marching him out of the cell.

The exchange between Obi-Wan’s escort and the guards at the entrance of the cellblock sounded bored. It was only when they were around the corner and out of sight that his escort prodded the blaster against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, muttering something that he could only guess meant “faster.” They moved along at a good clip, not a run but more than the casual walk a bored soldier would use.

That gave Obi-Wan the first hint that this was not only not normal, but perhaps a glimmer of hope. Anakin was of a height with these men – his padawan had no reason to be here helping him escape, but much more absurd things had happened in their time together.

He wasn’t quite prepared for them to pass through a door into more of that damned pounding rain. Without his cloak, he was soaked in moments, but he was more than glad enough to see his starfighter, still on a landing platform with R4 in place.

Matters got less reassuring as the blaster at his shoulder moved up and over to aim right at the little astromech. The clone fired before Obi-Wan could do more than inhale to protest, but he was cut off by the sound of mechanics sparking to pieces even as R4 let out an offended squeal. Obi-Wan could make out something in her outraged binary about a restraining bolt even as the hatch opened, the soldier shoving him into the cockpit.

Obi-Wan had just enough time to see both the blasted remains of a restraining bolt and the scorch marks on R4 – just enough time to register that the clone had shot the damn bolt off from the far end of the platform’s walkway – before the clone hopped in after him. A single move of the clone pushed Obi-Wan into the pilot’s seat while removing the binders.

He didn’t have time to savor the feel of the Force crashing back into him. He also didn’t need to understand what the man was saying to him to understand “go!”

“R4, get us to the hyperdrive ring and back to Coruscant fast as you can!” He raced through the ignition and basic checklists, not caring very much that most of the latter were done even as they were fleeing up into the atmosphere. The lack of pursuit was chilling, as was the quiet presence crammed into the Aethersprite behind him.

The little starfighter was not meant for two, though long and bitter experience meant that Obi-Wan used a slightly larger model that had a fold-down jumpseat in space that would otherwise be used for storage. He’d survived one too many long spaceflights crammed into corners of ships not meant for the passengers it needed to carry.

Once they were clear of the planet, several sleek fighters came speeding towards them. The com crackled with demands in that same damn unknown language, but before he could decide if silence or bluffing were better, the clone’s arm snaked over his shoulder. Obi-Wan had that helmet right next to his head as the clone activated the com, drawling something bored and slightly cranky. In the Force, he felt tightly wound, battle-ready, and conflicted in a way Obi-Wan didn’t tend to run into outside of civil wars.

The response from the incoming fighters sounded suspicious, but another bored sounding offer earned a rueful laugh and an acknowledgement before they peeled off. The clone slipped back to the jumpseat, feeling even more conflicted through his satisfaction.

Nothing else got in their way as R4 hooked the Aethersprite up to its hyperdrive ring and took them into hyperspace. Obi-Wan finally let himself take a few relieved breaths before twisting around to look at his savior.

The clone was ignoring him, helmet visor aimed at the stars streaking by them with quiet awe and curiosity thrumming through him.

“Never seen hyperspace, have you.”

The wonder was instantly replaced by a mix of emotions, nothing clear beyond wary resignation. The clone reached up and removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm in a fluid move. Obi-Wan was trying not to stare at the close-shorn blond hair as the man brought a fist up to his chest, not quite like a salute. “Rex,” he declared.

Ah, progress, finally. He mimicked the gesture. “Obi-Wan.”

Rex nodded, then asked something that still sounded like no languages Obi-Wan knew. “You don’t seem to speak Basic, and I certainly don’t understand that. I don’t suppose you know any other languages?”

Rex frowned, then shook his head in what looked and felt like frustration. He declared something different, this time full of rolling vowels and a few sibilants.

Also unfamiliar.

“R4, can you see if anything in the ship’s translation program matches either language of our friend here?”

The droid whistled an affirmative, then a little later chirruped in delight. One of the screens to Obi-Wan’s left started scrolling Basic text next to a language helpfully labeled “Kaminoan.” As soon as Rex saw that, he lit up and a bit of relief melted some of his worry away.

Translation via text wasn’t Obi-Wan’s preferred form of communication, but it was better than trying to gesture their way through a conversation. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Thank you for freeing me.”

Rex blinked at the Jidai. He’d expected just about anything else as the likely first words once communication was established. Courtesy like that wasn’t something he or any other clone were used to being on the receiving end of. He nodded cautiously, trying to silence the little voice in the back of his mind warning against showing insolence, that this was a trap.

Then the Jidai’s head tilted, and he frowned. “How did you know how to use the coms?”

Again, not what Rex expected. “Typical setup for a ship of this class. No reason to think it’d be constructed differently.”

He didn’t know what to do with the long, slow look he got for that. The Jidai’s face was serene, but his body language was uneasy, maybe worried. Probably time to go on the offensive. “What do the Jidai want with Kamino?”

That earned him a confused look. “The Jedi, you mean?” Obi-Wan glanced at the screen where the translations were showing, then shook his head. “I’m not sure ‘Jidai’ is Kaminoan.”

Rex nodded. “Massassi, not Kaminoan. Jidai are….” He hesitated, not sure how to translate a concept everyone seemed to have understood well enough before. “They use the Force. Fight with – ” Blast, there was nothing that would work for ‘lightsaber,’ except maybe ‘plasma knife’ and he already resented sounding quite so stupid. “They fight as you did, when you arrived. With your weapon.”

Obi-Wan leaned back, stroking a hand over his beard. “Well, yes, but there’s a good deal more to it than that. We are peacekeepers, diplomats, servants of the Republic. It’s not all just waving a flashy weapon around while defying the laws of physics.”

He grinned in spite of himself. “But that is part of it.”

“Well. Perhaps a little,” Obi-Wan admitted, a hint of humor in his eyes. Then he hesitated and glanced down at his hand – his palm. “Our other major charge is to defend against the Sith.”

Rex blinked and pulled back, because the sudden Massassi at the end of the Kaminoan was confusing. He’d never heard the longnecks talk – no, the translation program seemed to think ‘Sith’ was a legitimate word. Rex pointed at it. “Sith what?”

“Sith…Lords? Followers of the Dark Side?”

The individual words made sense, but the mess together was absurd. He shook his head. “Sith – It’s not Kaminoan, it’s Massassi. ‘Supreme,’ I think is the Kaminoan.”

Some emotion he couldn’t quite understand darkened the Jidai’s eyes from almost green to deep blue. He muttered something that – the droid? The translation program? – couldn’t quite catch, something about surprise. A deep breath seemed to settle him back to normal. “Well. The Sith are the counterpart to the Jedi. They power their use of the Force through Darker means – anger, fear, hate.” Rex had to either be broadcasting his curiosity, or it was an obvious followup. “The Jedi use serenity, peace, and harmony instead.”

That sounded all nice and neat in theory, but Rex and all his brothers trained relentlessly to find weak points, be it in logic, structures, or people. He frowned. “One sounds painful, the other sounds lonely.”

That hit home, though Obi-Wan tried to hide it. Rex kept speaking, because he hadn’t meant to attack his only ally, such as that went. “They call themselves Tsis, in their own language.”

“I wonder where the similar roots converge,” Obi-Wan murmured, then he looked Rex in the eyes. It wasn’t a harsh look, for all that it pinned him in place. “The Tsis. Their language is Massassi?”

Sneaky. Sneaky, and unavoidable. Rex nodded.

“Then you know what this says?” Obi-Wan presented his palm, the damming script not quite in Rex’s face. He nodded again, aware he’d sat up a little, more at attention. It was a surprise, how troubled Obi-Wan looked. “I didn’t think to ask Dooku, not that I think he’d have been inclined to tell me. What _is_ it?”

Rex latched onto the obvious out like it was his only escape route. “Dooku?”

“Tall human, melodramatic, likes lightning?”

Ah. “Lord Tyranus.”

“One of your ‘Tsis?’ Does he stop by often?”

He shrugged, back on more familiar ground. “He’s one of the Masters. He’s there when he is needed.”

“Masters?” Obi-Wan’s voice remained light and curious, but his eyes had hardened into something furious. Rex gave a cautious nod, and it was interesting to watch the Jidai fight down anger. There was a mild lilt of fury in his voice when he asked, “Did you know slavery is outlawed in the Republic?”

That anger was more than enough to tighten something in Rex’s shoulders, but if the Jidai were really about peacekeeping and such ridiculous fluffy things – if the Masters were somehow _wrong_ – then ghosts take it, he was going to face this man down. “Is Kamino a part of this Republic of yours?”

Obi-Wan blinked, visibly stumbling to a mental halt. He barked something too harsh to be laughter, but not sharp enough to be cruel. “No, I suppose not. You still haven’t answered my question, though.” 

Deepest waters take it. He tried to sound normal. “Protect him even if it kills him.”

He was not expecting the Jidai to blanch. With the light skintone, he went almost as pale as a longneck as he stared down at his hand before clenching it into a fist. He muttered something too low to be heard, for all that it sounded like a distressed oath. It took much longer for Obi-Wan to compose himself than when he had been angry. Rex…couldn’t quite help himself. “What’s wrong?”

This time the ugly laughter sounded more grim, less angry. “I have never encountered someone who could read this. I was very young when it was identified as language of the Tsis, and they are our traditional enemies, as far back as memory goes.” Rex fought down a chill scampering along his spine. “I have never been quite trusted, because what Jedi – Jidai – would have a soulmate that spoke Tsis?” 

‘Soulmate.’ That was a new word. At the same time, Rex couldn’t quite believe it. “There’s nothing of betrayal there.”

Obi-Wan stared at him blankly for a moment, then seemed to take the time to study the translation screen as opportunity to steady himself. “The language is betrayal enough.” The Jidai just sat and breathed, grief thick enough in the shuttle that he had to be broadcasting it. “I hope I didn’t kill them,” Obi-Wan finally whispered.

“The one your soul-script matches?” At the confused look, Rex pointed to Obi-Wan’s hand. “The person who wears your thoughts?”

He nodded, and Rex sat back. He knew a tipping point when he balanced upon it. Battles were won or lost in these moments, and you were lucky if you could see it – let alone see it this clearly.

He had no guarantees, in the end. Strong suspicions, strong enough to risk everything on saving this Jidai – one of the beings he and his brothers had been bred to destroy. There was no returning even as matters stood. Yet to go further required deeper trust, that he didn’t know if he had.

It was the grief he felt from Obi-Wan that decided him. Rex sat up a little straighter. “Will you do me a favor?”

“That certainly depends on what it is.”

Rex finally allowed himself to grasp his left arm. “We have those marks as well, but – I don’t know what language mine might be.”

“Yes, of course. I can make no guarantees that I’ll know it either, mind.” Obi-Wan looked grateful for the distraction, the feeling of grief sinking through Rex’s skin into his bones finally easing. He felt far too vulnerable stripping off the top half of his armor, stacking pieces next to him until he was down to his blacks. Rex took an extra few seconds tugging the top half off to just breathe.

He wasn’t clutching the undersuit tight as he turned to let the Jidai see the soulscript wrapping around his upper arm. He was…just _holding_ it. Very tightly.

Not that it mattered. Obi-Wan was wide-eyed now, not pale, as he leaned in closer. “That’s…that’s my handwriting,” he whispered, before looking at Rex in awe. “You’re–?” 

“The one who got you with the stun shot, yes.” That earned him a flicker of a smile, but Rex had come this far and now he wanted to _know_. “What does it say?”

“Who would protect _me_?” He had a bad feeling that the awe wasn’t for just this moment, that Obi-Wan would be just as incredulous about being protected no matter what the circumstance.

It was anything but rational, but could he really expect soul-script to be anything but unreasonable? The longnecks were all about logic and science. Rex was the idiot who would try an untested new approach to subdue a Jidai.

“Me,” Rex offered, earning himself a brilliant smile. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Basic is stupid,” Rex declared with a scowl for the datapad in his hands.

Obi-Wan bit back a grin, because calling said scowl cute was doing no one any favors – even if it was on the adorable side. “You’ve only been at it three days.”

Rex glanced away from the translation screen and rolled his eyes, a clear non-verbal ‘so?’ He squirmed a bit in the seat, tugging once again at his vest. They’d had to stop twice already, given the limited supplies the Aethersprite could carry and the fact that it now had to support two. Obi-Wan had gotten Rex some standard spacer clothes at the first stop, since the armor was rather distinctive. For all that he’d growled and complained about the lack of protection and practicality, Rex seemed partial to the color variation involved. 

It was still strange how that felt…good. Force, he was still trying to come to terms with having found his soulmate, let alone the circumstances involved.

Rex scrubbed a hand over his hair, growling in annoyance at some other quirk of Basic. In all honesty it was both fascinating and a bit terrifying how he seemed to soak up language like a sponge. Obi-Wan was used to this sort of absorption with Jedi and meditative learning trances, but that wasn’t a common skill and he couldn’t swear it was as effective as – well, Rex.

Every now and again he had to face the reality that there were thousands more soldiers serving the Sith, and they all had comparable skills.

Those were not good moments. Thank the Force they only had about a day more before they were back on Coruscant.

Rex growled another cross-sounding phrase, shaking his head and sitting up straighter.

“Everything all right?” Obi-Wan asked. There was something _off_ about how Rex twisted his head, reaching back to try to sooth visibly tense muscles in his neck.

“No,” Rex snapped back, then he froze. He muttered some kind of oath, his expression not quite morose enough to be hangdog, but too stern to be dejected. He asked something in that spitting Kaminoan. By now, it was automatic to turn to the screen designated for translation.

“Did you alter the temperature?”

“No? Why?”

Another oath, then Rex slumped back in the jumpseat. “We have a problem.” He met Obi-Wan’s eyes, declaring something solemn. It was surprisingly difficult to look away from that intense gaze to find out what he’d said.

“It’s a thing that happens to some brothers. A few end up going to the medics and come back without anything but a negative mark on their record, but most are decommissioned. I’m showing all the signs of one of the worse cases.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t used to the flash of concern he felt, the slow simmering anger he desperately needed to meditate to let go of. He’d seen no evidence of the Dark side to Rex, beyond a practicality that was stark enough to sometimes pass as cruelty. It was difficult to accept that the Sith had created an entire army of men like this.

He shook off that train of thought. He had bigger concerns right now – oh, _Force_ , far greater concerns if he was even considering his soulmate as of more significance than an army of clones for the fucking _Sith_. If this was some kind of failure point for the clones, it could be anything from some kind of manufactured plague to a kill switch, and ignorance was going to help no one. “What are the symptoms? How does this progress?”

“Distraction. Irritability. Gradual increase in dizziness, corresponding decrease in coordination. Fever enough to be noticeable, though I never heard any exact numbers.” Indeed, Rex swiped a hand over his hair, and something about the movement pulled Obi-Wan’s eyes away from the translation to watch him slick moisture through that blond bristle.

Obi-Wan blinked and shook off the moment of distraction, grateful that the translation hadn’t scrolled fast enough to lose data offscreen. “That’s usually when the medics catch wind of things. If it’s happening quickly, then there’s increasing psychological impact. Reduced reasoning. Irrational behavior. A combination of paranoia and obsession.” Warning bells were starting to go off in Obi-Wan’s mind – he _knew_ this, but it was wrong, off somehow.

“The furthest stage I’ve heard of includes some kind of anal secretion, but –”

“ _Wait,_ ” Obi-Wan yelped, jumbled puzzle pieces finally slotting together. “Wait just – Dear gods, are you telling me you’re going _into heat_?”

“What does that even _mean_?” Rex snapped.

_What does that even_ – Obi-Wan stared. No. That – But – He made himself calm the fuck down, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. It helped, in that his body knew this routine, and it…made a strange kind of sense. Rex had been looking for useful phrases, starting with the Kaminoan and memorizing the Basic translations. Grammar lessons wouldn’t use secondary sexs as topics, and if one didn’t _know_ there was a concept to explore, how could one even investigate?

The deep breathing also _didn’t_ help, because it meant now that he knew what to look for, he could pick up the building hints of an Omega going into heat. If Obi-Wan wasn’t on suppressants, he’d probably have known by now. Of course, if he wasn’t on suppressants, he’d probably know because he’d have Rex –

Obi-Wan slammed the brakes on that particular train of thought. Suppressants were all well and good, and greased the cogs of civilized behavior, but it could only do so much with one’s libido. They were in no danger of Obi-Wan ravishing Rex, but dear gods he was already far harder than he’d suspect. It was going to be a long day to Coruscant.

“Oh, _kriff_ ,” he hissed, whipping around and slamming off the hyperdrive. Rex snapped something behind him, but Obi-Wan didn’t have time to read what. “R4, do we have enough supplies to keep us floating wherever the hells here is for at least three days?”

R4 was kind enough to whistle an affirmative before demanding to know what he was doing. Obi-Wan turned in his chair so as to see both Rex and the translation screen. “Rex is an Omega. He’s going into heat.” R4 hooted a quick acknowledgement as Obi-Wan kept speaking, since Rex did need to know. “A heat is a – a hormonal cycle some humans have. We as a species have secondary sexual distinctions – Alpha, Beta, Omega. About once a year Omegas have a heat, when their sex drive kicks up and – well, all the signals you mentioned. It lasts several days, less when there’s vigorous sexual activity.”

“Which is…?”

Obi-Wan drew a hand over his face, because with a suspicious look like Rex had, he wasn’t joking: he didn’t know. Dear gods, Obi-Wan hadn’t been this embarrassed since he’d tried to have a very awkward conversation with Anakin about puberty, only to be reminded that children raised as slaves on Tatooine had a far broader and creative understanding of sex and gender development than Obi-Wan could have imagined.

Rex took the simplified lecture a lot better than Obi-Wan hoped. He finally sat back and just blinked for a bit, then shook his head. “That all sounds ridiculous.”

“Yes, well, the theory is that it feels better than it sounds, and to enjoy time with one’s partner or partners if those exist.” He couldn’t quite keep himself from gnawing curiosity. “I’m surprised this is all new. You’re, what, somewhere in your twenties?”

Rex muttered something concise but almost amused. Obi-Wan glanced at the screen and then did a double take. “That translation cannot be correct. _How_ old are you?”

Rex repeated himself, holding up both hands with his fingers spread wide.

Still ten. All right. All right, he could deal with this. Clone, not human as one typically defined it. Dear gods, and this would be his first heat. “How can this happen?” he asked, not meaning to be audible.

Rex glanced away, something hurt and cautious sliding across his face. It was… _difficult_ to look at the translation.

“The ration bars you and I have been eating – they all taste strange. Bland, not bitter enough. It’d be an easy leash to keep on us, and the time frame’s what I would pick if I had to come up with this.”

Oh Force. About three days of freedom for anyone who dared to escape, and if they hadn’t been captured by that time, then without inhibitors in the food, sexual maturity would kick in. Rex’s blond was natural, so genetic aberrations happened. The clones could be Omegas, but they might not be. Any Omegas would be stuck where they were, Alphas would be liable to tear each other apart to contest over the Omegas, and it would be easy for any Betas to succumb to either minor heats of their own or to a mating frenzy one just didn’t _find_ in the modern galaxy.

Stopped in their tracks, whatever the case. Particularly if the food limited sex drive in the first place, since it didn’t sound like Rex was unusual in lacking that.

Brutal, all of it. Choosing to go on suppressants was one thing. Being forced into it was entirely another.

Obi-Wan shook that off as Rex said something. He glanced back at the translation.

“So what do we do? Is there a way to stop this?”

He made a face. “Not by this point, I think. Even if we kept going, there’s good odds that by the time we reach someplace civilized you’ll be far enough into matters to be in danger of setting off anyone who isn’t on some kind of suppressant.” He could see Rex’s look. “I’ve an implant – it lasts for years, so there’s no issue with not being able to get regular treatment. I don’t have anything temporary here, so it’s just a matter of riding things out.” He _almost_ blushed at the wordplay, but he had better self control than that, and it helped that there was no way Rex would get it anyways. It hurt, how in the Force he could feel Rex’s trepidation even as the clone looked stoic and unconcerned. 

“How?” Rex using Basic was still a surprise.

Since he’d thankfully covered masturbation already, that meant there were no awkward ambiguities over what that meant. “I’m not sure how much privacy we can get you –” Then again, from the immediate negative emotions flaring in the Force, Rex wouldn’t want that at all. “– or alternatively if you want some kind of physical contact.”

He…might have noticed that his soulmate seemed at least as touch starved as he was, if not more.

“Contact, but….”

Obi-Wan was already holding up a hand. “I’ll talk you through whatever you need, I’m happy to be here, but you have no choice in this and no idea what any of it is. Support, not sex.”

Rex nodded, looking relieved.


	5. Chapter 5

Obi-Wan always had at least three extra cloaks with him. In his defense, it wasn’t exactly his fault. In the early years of Anakin’s apprenticeship, Obi-Wan had been constantly reminded that his student was desert born and raised. He got cold easily, for all that he worked very hard to never complain. He had difficulties with pride in self-sufficiency, so it was often easiest for Obi-Wan to simply make sure he had an extra cloak or two that Anakin could just…end up with.

The annoying side effect was that Obi-Wan then developed a somewhat more casual attitude towards his cloaks than was good for anyone, particularly the Order’s quartermasters. Matters didn’t improve when Anakin got older and more resistant to the cold: by that point he was convinced that Obi-Wan really _did_ need all the spares, and he made sure to stock their star-fighters with any number of extra garments as he thought appropriate.

It was an absurd self-perpetuating habit by now, but Obi-Wan was glad of it because it meant that once he’d shoved the pilot’s seat forward as far as it could go and then put the jump seat up, he had half a dozen cloaks to provide decent padding in a makeshift nest.

Thank the Force Rex didn’t ask. Then again, for all he knew Rex thought it was normal for Jidai.

Also not comforting.

The space left between the aft storage cubbies and the pilot’s seat looked like it would be enough to fit the not-quite two meter clone into, with Obi-Wan snugged up behind him. There wouldn’t be much room between them and the sides of the craft, but he doubted they’d need much.

“What now?” Rex asked in that quiet rumble he brought to Basic.

“Clothes,” Obi-Wan said. “This gets messy.”

It was beyond surreal, taking off his over-tabards and boots while Rex peeled off his clothes like the cramped quarters provided no difficulty whatsoever. The sheer amount of muscle to the man was astonishing, and Obi-Wan tried hard not to stare at rather extensive scarring for someone who was kriffing _ten_.

Gods, but he was a lovely sight. It was odd, though, to be in the presence of someone quite so visibly turned on who seemed more concerned with suspiciously eyeing their own cock instead of either strutting or eyeing _him_. It wasn’t that Obi-Wan’s ego was offended; it was just _odd_.

He tried to cover that by gesturing to the cloaks. It was a confusing bit of contortion, getting the two of them spooned together so they could still see the translation screen and somehow not clobber each other too much while settling whose elbow went where.

“You all right?” Obi-Wan asked, peering over Rex’s shoulder. He could feel muscles in the clone’s arm twitch underneath his hand, even as Rex’s breathing hitched.

“Yes, but….” Rex shook his head, blond bristle whispering against Obi-Wan’s beard. He had to breathe deep at the accidental touch before glancing from Rex to the screen. “Strange. Restless.”

He hoped the pat on the arm was reassuring instead of condescending. “Then follow that – one’s body usually knows what to do.”

Rex had incredibly eloquent eyerolls. “That is _not_ the smart way to – ” He sighed and let his head fall back against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. The way he was staring up sent a shiver through Obi-Wan; something to the way the light hit his hair, how his pupils were blown out to make the pale brown seem like rich amber. “Not the way I learn best.” Rex’s voice was almost normal – just a little too quiet, dropping into a husky growl that meant Obi-Wan was now thoroughly hard, and _very_ grateful that he’d left on his trousers. “Show me,” he challenged, with just enough uplift to make it more question than demand.

* * *

For a moment, Rex wondered if he’d pushed too far, too insistent rather than asking. He had no idea what the social norms were, but did it matter anyways? Then Obi-Wan’s odd look lost some of the uncertainty, and he slid his hand from Rex’s arm down, along the chest instead.

It had to be the fever, the hormones or whatever, but that callous-roughened touch skimming along his skin did bizarre, amazing things to him. He had to fight down some noise trying to climb out of his throat that was close to a damned whine, just at the sensation leaving goosebumps rippling across his skin.

Ghosts, Obi-Wan wasn’t even anywhere near Rex’s cock, and that was the most obvious destination given how weird it was behaving in the middle of all this mess. Also that little lecture Obi-Wan had blushed all the way through about ‘masturbation.’ He had to wonder what that would be like, if just a –

Rex yelped, his whole body arcing as Obi-Wan changed the angle of his fingers, nails briefly trying to curve along muscles. It was a confusing moment, new sensation mixing with strange goings on that Rex’s brain belatedly registered as slickness beginning to drip along his inner thighs. At the same time, Obi-Wan stopped moving, his palm going flat against Rex’s chest. He said something, words that Rex knew but couldn’t quite grasp because he was stuck on the warmth, how Obi-Wan leaned forward to be this _presence_ up and down Rex’s back and snug against his side and so. damned. _warm_ and almost tingling against his chest.

When he finally caught his breath, Rex checked the screen. “All right?” Obi-Wan had asked.

“Situation normal?” he asked, not quite able to believe this was usual. At least, he thought that was what he was saying. He couldn’t swear his brain was functioning at all, let alone correctly.

Obi-Wan bobbled something that wasn’t quite a nod. “Warm normal.”

What? Oh. Normal for a heat. Gods, now he wanted a book on grammar AND a book on biology, and he’d had enough of that after “squishy vulnerable bits” lessons and basic field medicine. He was happy to leave that sort of mess to Kix and the other lunatics who liked sharp objects. 

“You ok?” Obi-Wan was clearly not going to let it go. Rex gave a short nod, grateful that all that sensation was settling down into something almost like a buzz under his skin – pleasant, but very new and very weird.

All of it was…strange. It was overwhelming, really. He thought he might like it if there wasn’t quite so much _sensation_ going on, so maybe if it wasn’t the heat thing…

Obi-Wan was still, maybe waiting on him for something. He didn’t speak until Rex looked him in the eyes. Ridiculous, given how Rex almost immediately had to look for the translation. “Do not hesitate to tell me to stop if it feels like too much, or if you want a break of any sort. Do you want me to start back up?”

He nodded again. Strange, how Obi-Wan kept hitting that point. Like those boundaries…mattered. Realization slammed into Rex like the bolt of pleasure when Obi-Wan trailed his fingers up, along the scars a particularly lucky training droid had left above Rex’s right clavicle. Maybe to the Jidai, a ‘no’ had weight.

His hips bucked, like he was trying to shove something off of him even as his cock twitched with a sensation not quite an itch, not quite an ache. His body wanted _something_ but he had no idea what, or how to do a damned thing about it other than ride the sensations and trust Obi-Wan that it was probably going somewhere good.

“Here,” Obi-Wan muttered, which made no sense except he reached for Rex’s near hand a moment later. Instead of moving his hand as he expected, Obi-Wan twined their fingers together, bringing both down to slide across Rex’s abdomen then curving around his cock. It was a solid hold with a gentle grip, a bit more cautious than Rex would have done but this was probably better. He suspected it was better, at least. Couldn’t be sure, not with how his brain wasn’t supplying intel just sensation, and that sensation was _good_.

* * *

On one level, Obi-Wan knew leaving his hand around Rex’s cock was a mistake. Given the clone’s bulkier and slightly taller build, it meant he was now tucked up far closer than he’d intended. He was close enough that he could hear and feel every time Rex’s breath hitched or slipped into a needy little noise too quiet to be a whimper. There was no way to block out the impressions in the Force, the lust and fascination and building need rapping away on Obi-Wan’s shields.

It meant that every time Rex was rocking his hips, Obi-Wan felt like he was rutting up against him. He tried to ignore it, tried to pretend he wasn’t utterly hard and getting irregular stimulus, tried to pretend that his pants wouldn’t be decent again without rigorous washing and it all lent a surreal air to matters. For the moment, he tried to pretend he was doing nothing more than lending a hand to one who needed assistance.

It would be so much easier if he wasn’t so damn keenly aware of the Sith – Tsis – words on the palm he was using to stroke said assistance for his soulmate. With Omega pheromones thick in the air, it took absurd amounts of self control to not start rutting against Rex in truth. Instead, he focused on hand movements, trying to keep the pace swift enough for a demanding heat while slow enough for genuine enjoyment.

It still didn’t take long before Rex whispered his name. “Obi-Wan?”

The upraised lilt wasn’t quite a question, but the way Rex’s hips were starting to seriously buck made an obvious conclusion.

“It’s fine,” Obi-Wan murmured back, tucking his head forward as an excuse to move his hips further away. That was a mistake, placing his face almost in the crook of Rex’s neck. Obi-Wan managed not to moan as he found blond bristle again brushing against the side of his face, the heady scent of sex, musk, and hormones immediate and almost overwhelming.

What started as a precautionary maneuver changed mid-movement into a nuzzle, Rex’s touch-starvation clear in the Force. Obi-Wan tried to listen to that, and he couldn’t swear if it was his own instincts, reading the currents of the Force, or sheer damn stupidity that led to him _nipping_ at the broad, scarred shoulder before him.

The shout Rex let out was more than a yelp this time, _pleasure_ radiating off of him as his head went back, his hips thrusting forward, and muscles clenching as he came. The emotional feedback in the Force was amazing, not quite orgasmic in its own right but damn fucking good and more than enough to leave Obi-Wan almost as stunned as Rex was.

Rex seemed to recover first, steady enough as he rolled to face Obi-Wan far closer than was reasonable. His breaths were still coming fast, his pupils still blown out, and he looked like the heat had settled in and wouldn’t let the poor bastard go until he’d gone and pleasured himself senseless a few dozen times.

“More?” he asked, and Obi-Wan wanted to slump back and reconsider several horrible life choices. A refractory period this short was not something he’d planned for. Before he could figure out what to say, Rex frowned a little and reached out with his clean hand to cup Obi-Wan’s cheek. “ _You_ want more?”

“What.” He didn’t mean to sound so flatly incredulous, but no one could blame him for it.

Rex had another exasperated eyeroll, then he said something without even trying for Basic. The raised brows and significant look at Obi-Wan’s crotch did not help in the least.

“That was good – very good. Thank you. But I’m not blind and I’m not the only one here.”

He blushed, resenting his body’s reactions more than usual. On the one hand, he knew he shouldn’t. It was far too easy to take advantage in this sort of situation.

On the other hand, Rex was clearly coherent enough to talk, and no more out of his head than Obi-Wan was. Not to mention gods, yes, he was interested.

Obi-Wan temporized instead. “That’s not what we agreed to. Why change your mind?”

Rex hesitated. “Promises kept. Curiosity. Learning you would listen to a ‘no,’ suspecting you would find nothing wrong with saying ‘no.’”

This time, the blush was all pleasure. “Curiosity?” he repeated, latching on to the only answer he couldn’t immediately figure out.

Rex had a lovely, crooked grin. “You were right: it does feel better than it sounds. So now I’m wondering about the partner bit.”


	6. Chapter 6

If there were words or reassurance more likely to entice Obi-Wan into making poor decisions, he wasn’t sure what they would be. Fine, yes, he knew that Rex didn’t, _couldn’t_ mean ‘partner’ the way that it resonated with Obi-Wan, but that didn’t change the response. Omega pheromones were thick in the starfighter’s recycled air, he’d just been propositioned by someone who indicated at least part of the matter was due to trust, and it had been a damn long time since he’d spent intimate time with someone.

Not to mention that this particular someone was his soulmate, and quite possibly thinking more clearly than he was.

Obi-Wan still hesitated, then reminded himself that there was a line where questioning Rex’s decisions was less about due diligence and more about disregarding a grown man’s autonomy.

And yes, he _wanted_.

He compromised, settling for murmuring, “You can change your mind anytime.” Obi-Wan almost expected another roll of the eyes, or exasperation. Instead, Rex looked from the translation screen back to him with a small nod and another of those wry grins. In the Force, he felt certain, though it was threaded with the cautious hints of unease that came from ignorance.

It didn’t show in his body language, but he might as well have been shouting ‘what the hell am I supposed to do now?’

* * *

Obi-Wan smiled back, then tried to shift upright to his knees. That didn’t go too well, not with space limited as it was and the strange – pleasant – weakness still lingering in Rex’s muscles. Interesting. The Jidai apparently weren’t used to sleeping tubes, maybe? Rex tried to imagine the alternative as Obi-Wan squirmed out of his remaining clothes.

That not-really-an-itch was coming back, want starting to shiver under his skin again. He could see where the medics’ reports of irrationality and poorer reasoning came from. It wasn’t impossible to ignore, but if he didn’t know what he was dealing with? It’d be at least three kinds of hellish.

It’d already been strange, spending several days limited mostly to a starfighter and Obi-Wan’s quiet company. He could only hope this was the crest of the wave – but he also didn’t mind the activity and movement it freed him to engage in.

Obi-Wan finally wrestled his pants off, almost toppling onto Rex during the last contortion. It was a relief that his reflexes were still sharp enough to catch the Jidai, surging upwards so that they both ended up on their knees, face to face and with sheepish grins. This was…nice. Strange, but fascinating, how very _pale_ Obi-Wan was. He was more wiry than Rex was used to seeing in humans, all of him slightly different in shape from hundreds of identical brothers.

Then Obi-Wan froze, his hand reaching towards the discarded belt as his head went back and an expression somewhere between disgusted and exasperated crossed his face. Rex was already looking over at the screen as Obi-Wan sighed and grumbled, “I am an idiot.” By the time Rex looked back at him, the Jidai was removing something from a belt pouch. It was a small duraplast packet that Obi-Wan unwrapped to reveal…more duraplast? It looked to be rolled up, but for what purpose he couldn’t even imagine.

He was gratified that Obi-Wan tried to explain. “I should’ve offered protection sooner.”

Then again, that explained nothing. “Protection from _what_?”

“Disease, mostly. This could well be insufficient for a heat when it comes to fertilization, but thankfully I’ve an implant. In the meantime, it makes things, er, rather less messy.”

Rex looked back at the rolled duraplast, up at Obi-Wan, then back down. How that could even work, he had no idea. Thankfully, the look was sufficient enough for the question. Obi-Wan obliged, only a little sheepish as he unrolled the duraplast down the length of his prick.

It all seemed ridiculously inefficient. Body suits existed for many good reasons, and there were better ways to holster a cock. Rex was just as glad to have skipped it.

Well. His body seemed weirdly aroused by the show of Obi-Wan’s hands all over his own cock, probably how it was evocative of those incredible sensations of hands over Rex’s body. He tried to shake that off, though with no success. “Do I need one?”

Obi-Wan probably didn’t need the Force to get the message. “Not really. As I said, it’s mostly about the mess.”

Rex snorted in amusement, sending a rueful look down. “Little late for that.” He hesitated, something deep inside of him still a bit concerned over the secretion he couldn’t help but think of as a critical defect on his part. “Besides, I’m not sure it would help with….” He gestured vaguely towards the slickness so obvious between his legs.

Obi-Wan’s eyes followed the movement, then he blushed lightly. “That is rather different,” he murmured. When he had Rex’s attention again, he shifted closer, slow enough to announce his every move. Once again, slow enough for Rex to stop him so easily.

He wasn’t sure which was headier: that explicit power to stop…whatever it was, or the care which Obi-Wan put into everything.

Then the Jidai was sliding his fingers up Rex’s inner leg, a gentle and arousing touch that almost made his brain stutter to a halt. “D-different?” he managed.

“This is part of the heat. Natural lubricant. To make, ah, intercourse easier.”

The sensations were incredible enough that Rex unbalanced, falling forward a bit before he caught himself against the wall. That meant his arms were bracketing Obi-Wan, who left his hand where it was, teasingly close to Rex’s cock even as he seemed caught in Rex’s gaze.

It took him a bit to remember the Basic. “Show me?” Rex was a little more hesitant than last time, but the sensation was intriguing, leaving him feeling good and light headed and _wanting_ more.

Obi-Wan stared at him long enough to make him wonder if he’d gotten the words wrong, then the Jidai smiled, a quirk of a grin just short of sly. “All right.” Obi-Wan slouched back, sliding down the wall until he was seated, legs stretched out between Rex’s. Rex gaped down at him, because that grin was near his cock and now he had to wonder if that was – was a thing, that natural borns did. He knew that mouths were filthy places and he wasn’t sure how sanitary it might be, then Obi-Wan was curling an arm around Rex’s leg. He was _nuzzling_ near but not towards Rex’s cock, before his hand slid upwards.

He was – it was impossible to tell exactly what he was doing, though Rex enjoyed the sensations of movement, those teasing _caressing_ movements then he was doing something new. It was something good, sensation of sliding _in_? Obi-Wan was slow, deliberate, but yes, that did feel like he was moving a finger inside him.

Rex had to brace himself against the wall for real then, not just to catch himself for a moment. Ghosts, that was impressive, yes it was strange but every movement took him a little deeper and Rex could feel his body relaxing into the rhythm, like this was something his body had craved but he hadn’t even known so.

He was making noises, embarrassing little needy sounds without registering it for too damn long, but it wasn’t quite as awkward as how his body was producing more of the lubricant, enough that some dripped down onto Obi-Wan’s leg. Gods, he didn’t know what to do with that or with the way he wasn’t simply curious anymore but wanting – wanting _more_ in a way that he couldn’t pin down beyond making an eager, agreeing noise as Obi-Wan added another finger inside.

Damn Jidai kept up those unbelievable movements, even as he was reaching with his other hand towards some of the slickness on Rex’s leg. He was gentle as he turned the new caress into a movement to collect some of the slickness, bringing it down to slide it along that stupid duraplast sheath. He gathered up the drips along his own leg the same way, finally fisting his cock with wonderfully obscene slowness.

Rex wasn’t sure if that was supposed to arouse him more, or not, but as absurd as it was, it did a damn fine job. It was still a bit strange, his body thrusting against Obi-Wan’s hand for more sensation of _fingers_ inside of him. Obi-Wan had talked more about masturbating, hands on cock sort of business, than anything like _this_ , and it didn’t take much logic to figure out what was supposed to go where. On the one hand, natural borns were weird. On the other, it felt unbelievably _good_. It was as if that pleasure was seeping into his mind, shutting down certain functions so that more and more what mattered was this, was the movement and the pleasure and –

Rex didn’t mean to let out something like a disappointed whimper when the movements slowed, more out than in. Then Obi-Wan was tugging on his hip, moving Rex down onto his knees straddling Obi-Wan’s legs. It was an incredible, almost shocking tease as Obi-Wan slowly removed his fingers in entirety, but it allowed him to grasp and maneuver Rex until he tugged down again.

That was not fingers easing into him. That was strange, that was fascinating and it was possibly weird how easy it was to just let Obi-Wan maneuver him slow and gentle until Rex was pretty sure they were flush with each other, but that was so damn secondary because he felt full but still wanting and what the hells was his body after because he wasn’t sure that he could somehow get _more_ in there.

Then Obi-Wan moved, thrusting up a little before pulling back down. He’d moved Rex up some with the thrust, so he dropped away only to thrust back up again, and oh, oh yes that was apparently what Rex’s body was after. It was easy to fall into a matching rhythm, pushing himself up before falling back down again. When Obi-Wan found… _something_ , some spot that meant pleasure shivered all through him and he saw starbursts, all Rex could do was try to keep that angle, keep stroking against that point. A distant part of his brain noted that he would not be viewing squats of any sort the same way ever again. A different part realized that this must be why Obi-Wan blushed when talking about riding it out – it’d been a pun, probably, not literal, but it was literal too now and oh so good. The rest of him was caught up in the sensations of the moment, all that pleasure sinking into his skin.

* * *

Obi-Wan could not get over the view, how Rex looked positively stunned but oh so eager. For all his talk about how just following the body’s urges wasn’t smart, he sure seemed to thrive on doing just that. It felt good, incredibly good, though Obi-Wan was gratified for how the Omega pheromones were filtered and not overwhelming. He’d experimented exactly once in his youth – a mutual experiment with his friend Quinlan Vos, who’d first floated the notion past him of seeing what a heat was like. Vos was an attitude on wheels on his best days. He’d walked the line between demanding and commanding in the midst of a heat, practically planted on top of Obi-Wan’s cock as soon as his hormones kicked into gear. It hadn’t been unpleasant at all, but it wasn’t to Obi-Wan’s taste to get so caught up in needing to fuck someone equally desperate, with no one to put any kind of brakes on.

He could enjoy this, savor Rex’s increasingly needy thrusts and relentless stamina instead of trying to match or beat it. True, this was no Heat Suite at a decent hotel, stocked with all sorts of amenities, but it was hardly less intimate for all that.

Since Rex had a rhythm down well enough, Obi-Wan indulged, sliding a hand from the hip upwards, trailing along all that muscle until he could reach over and wrap his hand around Rex’s arm. He didn’t think there was anything changing in the Force, but to bring his soulmark along Rex’s was so damn _satisfying_ , he had to wonder. For his entire life, he’d defied that Sith text and what it stood for. Now, he brought the words of protection around his own handwriting, that blue text circling biceps like an armband.

His soulmate. A Sith creation, a Tsis _weapon_ that was terrifyingly effective against Jedi.

In the Force, they might as well have been shouting their claim over each other.

The pace picked up, so perhaps the connection of soulmarks was as arousing to Rex as it was to Obi-Wan. He allowed himself to live in the moment, concerns over Sith and Dooku finally sliding away until it was just this, just movement, just pleasure.

He came hard and loud, his hand spasming as he tried not to clutch bruises into Rex’s soulmark. Rex was quieter, slumping over a few moments later to almost squish Obi-Wan before he managed to brace himself so they were just nose to nose. Gods, the movement as he wiggled to try to keep in place was so much, exacerbating that weird euphoria. The sensation from the freshly swollen knot made Obi-Wan want to either shiver uncontrollably or just giggle.

Much, much better without the overwhelming hormones.

Oooh, Force. Obi-Wan slumped back, breathing hard and trying to blink away stars. It had clearly been too long since he’d…blown off steam, so to speak. The joys of a full grown padawan that the Council, for whatever asinine reason, didn’t deign to allow to take the solo missions he was quite capable of now. He perhaps should have considered some sort of workaround a few years ago.

He indulged in a moment of selfishness, hoping that perhaps such would not be needed in the future. Obi-Wan shook it off quick enough, but still.

Then Rex tried to pull back, slow and cautious enough that it was just light tugs that made his body shift against the swollen, hypersensitive base of Obi-Wan’s cock.

“Uh. Help?” Rex asked, voice a little thick as he muttered something more. Obi-Wan had to crane a bit to the side to read the translation. “We’re…stuck?”

…oh gods. He couldn’t really facepalm in that moment, but it was tempting to try. “Yes, that happens. It’s, er, supposed to happen. Helps facilitate pregnancy.”

Rex squinted at the text for a moment. “What’s ‘pregnancy’?”

He tried not to groan. “Producing little ones.”

The expression Rex had, glancing down at their privates, was almost hilarious. “There’s not nearly enough machinery involved.”

“Yes, well, that would be the difference between cloning and biological production. Thus, protection and the implant.”

The clone relaxed a hair, carefully resettling himself to cuddle up against Obi-Wan. “That’s a relief.”

Obi-Wan indulged both himself and the feel of touch starvation he could sense wafting off of Rex. A light palm up and down that lovely expanse of back had Rex snuggling a bit closer. “Regardless of my own preferences – which are to do things exactly as we did – to do otherwise is a violation of basic law and decency.”

He didn’t like the way Rex went still. “Not used to that,” he murmured. It was difficult to tell what clued him in to Obi-Wan’s distress, but something instigated a tiny shrug. “Choice.”

The silence was thick, uncomfortable even through the afterglow. “You…didn’t think I kept asking because of some kind of power trip, did you?” Gods, that would be awful. Before he could fall too far down that mental rabbithole, Rex shook his head. He kept staring at the screen rather than up at Obi-Wan.

“No. We just don’t have choices, really. It’s not what we were made for.”

It was difficult to keep his hands steady while he had to work to breathe. It was– that was–

Obi-Wan had never felt quite so stunned, with perhaps the exception of when he had felt someone wanting nothing more than to protect him.

He’d never been chosen before. Not by Qui-Gon – not when he’d had to fight every centimeter of the way to convince that man that he was worthy, time and time again. Not by Anakin – Qui-Gon had selected the boy, the true Chosen One, and it had merely fallen upon Obi-Wan to carry through with his master’s dying wish. One could argue that the Jedi Order had chosen him – along with ten thousand other Force sensitives, so not really.

Rex had had every reason in the galaxy to not choose Obi-Wan. He hadn’t know what soulmarks were, nor what his said. For all that he’d not mentioned it, Obi-Wan knew that the clone had left literally everything he knew through an act of treason.

Rex had never had an opportunity in his life to make a single, significant decision – and he had picked Obi-Wan as his literal first choice.

Gods, it was hard to breathe.

Rex’s hand cupping his cheek brought Obi-Wan’s attention back to reality. “All right?”

He just stared back for a long moment, letting his emotions bubble around long enough to settle. Then he leaned in towards Rex, resting their foreheads together. “Yes.” He had no idea what the hells to do when they got back to Coruscant, nor how to handle Sith, Dooku’s defection, nor thousands of Sith-trained clones that were mildly terrifying.

But right here, right now? “Absolutely, yes.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Language Barriers [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14495709) by [litrapod (litra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litrapod)




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